


life, in a nutshell

by Biscay



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Casual Heterophobia, F/F, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-07-14 15:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7177826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biscay/pseuds/Biscay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patsy/Delia modern AU bits and pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love in (modern) Paris

They spend most of their week-long break enjoying lazy mornings in their hotel (the sun filters through the slats of the shutters; Patsy always wakes first and watches the light play over Delia's face), followed by a continental breakfast at one of any dozen cafes nearby. Then they'll make their way to a gallery; the Louvre, the Musee d'Orsay, and look at the works of the Old Masters. Patsy has seen Delacroix, Mengs and Gainsborough before, at exhibits in Tokyo and New York, and she feels embarrassed to talk about the paintings at first. But Delia delights at the scraps of information about each one Patsy remembers; suddenly she's not a know-it-all snob, she's simply sharing a part of her upbringing with the woman she loves (who looks at her like she's the most beautiful thing in the room).

But the final two days are reserved for something from Delia's childhood. Delia expressed shock and outrage when Patsy first confessed she'd never seen a Disney film, and while that egregious hole in her cultural education has since been fixed, she doesn't really know what to expect from a trip to Disneyland.

Delia has never been either, but spent the days leading up to their holiday researching the best rides on the internet and planning a bullet-pointed itinerary for maximum fun. On the day, however, Delia seems a little embarrassed, and after a short interrogation reveals her worry that Patsy will think it childish and silly, especially after the high culture of the week so far. Patsy assures her that it is not silly, and proves her point by buying and wearing a pair of Mickey Mouse ears. The day is wonderful, even if Delia nearly has her hand crushed by Patsy, who has never been on a rollercoaster before and is rather unprepared for the high thrills of Space Mountain. 

The firework display on their final night is magical; as sparks light up the sky, Patsy watches the delight on Delia's face. As the show comes to an end and the crowds begin to disperse, Delia kisses her nose and steals her Mickey ears.


	2. Dog park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [from a prompt on tumblr, based on a picture i did]

“Ang!” Patsy shouts across the park, “Angharad!”

Their corgi continues to chase squirrels with blind gusto, utterly oblivious to Patsy’s pleas.

Already a little breathless from chasing the dog – Ang’s legs are three inches long, how is she so fast? - Patsy turns to her girlfriend for help.

“Don’t look at me, Pats,” Delia says, her grin barely-concealed, “You’re her mistress too. You’ve got to be able to command her.”

“You taught her commands,” Patsy says through gritted teeth, “in Welsh.”

“I had to! It’s the land of her fathers!”

“We literally bought her from a breeder in Islington.”

“That’s no way to talk about straight people.”

“ _Delia_!”

“Come on, Patsy. You know the words.”

The park isn’t that crowded, and mangling Welsh verbs in public can’t possibly be more embarrassing than being repeatedly outmanoeuvred by a pudgy lapdog.

“Dere ‘ma!” she shouts. Angharad’s attention snaps over to Patsy. For all her utterly frustrating methods, Delia has actually trained her well. “Tyrd yma!”

Angharad comes bounding over, nearly skidding with enthusiasm, before weaving herself between Patsy and Delia’s feet.

“Good girl,” Delia says as she clips the lead onto Ang’s collar, possibly talking to the dog, possibly to Patsy. Angharad looks on happily as one of her owners kisses the other.

“Rwy'n dy garu di,” says Patsy.

Delia takes Patsy’s arm with one hand and Ang’s lead with the other as the three of them head for home. “I love you too.”


	3. Adventures in Babysitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asked about a million years ago to consider writing pupcake kid!fic; this is my best attempt. Probably 500x lighter on actual pupcake than anyone wanted, but I hope you enjoy :)

“Auntie Baaaaabs!” Beth Busby-Mount squeals as soon as Barbara enters the house, dropping her teddy-bear to the floor and running as fast as her little legs can carry her into Barbara's arms. As she scoops her goddaughter up and twirls her around, Barbara considers that there's no better welcome anywhere. 

“Hi Barbara!” Delia says, fixing an earring in place as she comes downstairs.

“Hello Delia,” Barbara says, giving her a hug made a little awkward by the four-year-old clinging around her neck. She draws back and looks Delia up and down, “you look absolutely lovely.”

“Thanks,” Delia says, brushing at her blue evening dress, “this is our first night out in ages, I thought I'd make an effort.”

“I'm so pleased I can do this for you, I don't see these guys anywhere near as much as I'd like.”

“They've both been very excited about seeing their Auntie Babs,” Delia says, then calls up the stairs. “Rhys! Patsy!” 

The two remaining Busby-Mounts come downstairs; Patsy's orange-red hair in a complicated updo that complements her dark green dress, her six-year-old son's strawberry-blonde mess of hair clashing quite terribly with his red-and-blue superhero shirt.

Barbara enjoys that Rhys is still young enough to not be self-conscious about going in for a cuddle (at least, Tom's nephews have grown to be too cool for hugs); Beth eventually releases her grip and Barbara is able to hug Patsy in greeting, too.

“Can I bring your bag upstairs?” Rhys asks, heaving it up with both arms.

“Are you sure you can manage?”

Rhys regards her very seriously. “I'm six.”

“You haven't got anything breakable in there, have you?” Patsy asks discreetly as Rhys clomps up the stairs, bumping himself and the bag into the banisters either side.

“Nothing at all,” Barbara says, “and gosh Patsy, you look lovely as well.”

“Thank you. It's not your eight-year anniversary every day, so-”

“Eight years?” Barbara does some furious mental maths, “you're right! Where does the time go?”

“Where indeed?” Patsy says, kneeling down to pull Beth's dark hair into a ponytail.

“Congratulations! I feel like I should have brought a card or something-”

“Barbara, you're doing us a tremendous favour by looking after these two this evening.”

Rhys, descending the stairs, looks put out.

“Rhys, you get time with your Auntie Babs and we get some very precious time with just us,” Patsy gently explains, “it's win-win.”

“It is,” Barbara agrees, “we'll have a great time.”

“Have you got everything?” Delia asks, double-checking for her phone in her bag and stepping into a pair of heels.

“You're the same height as Mum now,” says Rhys.

“I am,” Delia agrees, using the equal height to press a sweet, chaste kiss to Patsy's lips, “Pats in flats and Deels in heels.”

“We'll be back by eleven,” says Patsy, as she and Delia kiss both of their children goodbye, “you've got both our numbers, and everything's set up for you in the spare room. You two be good.”

“Have a wonderful evening!” Barbara takes Beth and Rhys' hands and the children wave their mothers out the door. 

“Okay,” Barbara says as they watch the car turn a corner and out of sight, “what would you like to do?”

* * *

Barbara has only visited the current Busby-Mount house once before; Patsy and Delia previously lived within spitting distance of London, but upsizing and wanting the children to be nearer the remaining grandparents on Delia's side necessitated a move out to Herefordshire. The children have both grown a lot since she last saw them, and while Patsy and Delia seem to have every confidence in her, if she's honest, Barbara is not entirely sure what she's doing. 

“Can we watch The Lion King?” Beth asks, pulling a handful DVDs from the shelf at once.

“I want to watch this one!” Rhys says, holding up Lilo and Stitch.

“No, this one!” Beth insists.

“Right!” Barbara says, taking control of the situation and spotting Inside Out among the DVDs that have fallen onto the floor, “we're watching this one, because I haven't seen it yet.”

Barbara spends a few moments figuring out the DVD player, then turns to the children. 

“Right, what sweets have you guys got?”

Rhys and Beth share a look.

“Are you telling me there are no sweets in this house?”

“Uh-”

“Only special occasions.”

“Oh, your poor children,” Barbara says, drawing them into a hug, “it's all right, I'm here now.”

Beth and Rhys squeal with delight as Barbara opens her handbag to reveal Smarties, Haribo and a Swizzels selection of lollies. 

“You two are to brush your teeth extra well tonight, all right?” Barbara says as they tuck in, “and not a word to your mum.”

“What about Mam?” Rhys asks through a mouthful of gummy bears.

“I'll leave her what's left over after our film,” Barbara says, helping herself to Smarties, “'Special occasions' indeed. You know it took months for your mam and I to convince your mum to give up smoking.”

“No way!”

Barbara wonders briefly if she shouldn't have said that, but she's committed now. “Yes way – her and Auntie Trixie.”

“What happened?”

“I think your mam used to refuse to kiss her after she smoked – your mum, not Auntie Trixie. I like to think my passive-aggressive leaflets helped.”

“What does passive-aggressive mean?”

“Um-” Barbara says.

Beth nudges her in excitement. “It's starting!”

* * *

Afterwards, none of them are especially hungry, but it's dinnertime, and even when Favourite Aunties are visiting, routines should probably be followed. She corrals the children into the kitchen, a large room with a dining table at one end.

“What would you two like for dinner?”

Barbara quickly discovers that four- and six-year-olds should not be allowed to choose a meal. She narrows the comprehensive and enthusiastic list of suggestions – more sweet than savoury - down to mashed potatoes, baked beans and fish fingers, and she leaves the children at the table to read their school books as she navigates the unfamiliar kitchen. 

Unsure about baked beans' status as a legitimate vegetable, she also prepares some broccoli from the salad draw in the fridge. 

“Auntie Babs?” Rhys asks, suddenly beside her. She startles and slips. 

“Ouch!” Barbara drops the knife on the counter with a clatter, the cut on her finger superficial but painful. 

At the sight of blood, Rhys' eyes widen and immediately fill with tears. 

“No, it's all right Rhys!” she says, fumbling for kitchen towel to stem the flow, “it was my fault!”

A few drops of blood drip to the floor and Rhys goes pale and faints.

Everything had been going so well.

* * *

“Hello Barbara?” Trixie answers after three rings.

“Trixie!”

“Whatever's the matter?” clearly Barbara sounds as frantic as she feels.

“You've babysat for Patsy and Delia before, haven't you? At their new place?”

“Yes, of course, is everything all right?”

“Do you know where they keep plasters?”

“The first-aid kit's under the sink. Barbara-”

“It's fine, I just cut myself. The children are fine-”

“Should you call them?”

“No, absolutely not!” Barbara says, holding the phone with her shoulder so she can rummage around under the sink, “it's their first evening off in months! And I'm a responsible adult – ow!”

A pause. “Did you hit your head on the cupboard?”

“Yes, I hit my head on the cupboard.”

“How are the kids?”

“Beth's fine, she's laughing at me. For the cut and now the head-bumping. Rhys, uh-”

“Rhys is a wuss!” Beth giggles in the background. 

“It turns out Rhys isn't so good with blood...”

“He fainted?”

“A little. He's fine, though, it's all fine.”

“Both his mothers are nurses, how on earth can he faint at the sight of blood?”

Beth helps Barbara apply a plaster to her finger, while Barbara keeps an eye on Rhys' pale (but now conscious) form across the room, “they don't bring their nursing back home with them, Trix.”

“Right, and that's sorted. I'm sorry to bother you-”

“It's no bother,” Trixie says, amusement clear in her voice, “and bless you for not interrupting their date. Good luck!”

Barbara hopes she won't need it. “Thanks.”

* * *

After dinner – Rhys is so remorseful about Barbara's injury that he eats all his broccoli – the children help her find the box where all the arts and crafts materials are kept. This turns out to be a massive mistake because, as soon as Beth sets eyes on the poster paints, there's no putting the genie back in the bottle. 

Right. Finger-painting it is.

The adventures with paint are actually much less messy than Barbara thought they would be – Patsy and Delia have trained their children well, and Rhys and Beth manage to keep the paint mostly between their hands and the paper, occasional flecks flicking into hair and onto the floor, but nothing a soapy sponge won't remove later. 

“Look!” Beth says proudly, holding up a piece of paper sodden with paint, great drips of orange and black running onto the newspaper Barbara insisted they lay on the table.

“That's great, Beth!” she says, “is it… a ladybird?”

“Ladybirds are red and black, not orange.” Rhys says with authority.

“It's Mum and Mam!”

“Oh, of course!” Barbara says, “shall we put it on the side and let it dry?”

Barbara helps Beth wash her hands and by the time they return to the table, Rhys has found something new to play with. 

“Fuzzy felt!” Barbara says, “I didn't realise children still liked it.”

“I don't like taking it apart at the end.” Rhys sighs. 

“Me neither,” says Barbara, as she puts together a farmyard scene, “once I got in trouble for gluing them all down because I liked my picture so much.”

“That's a good idea,” says Rhys, “do we have any glue?”

“Oh, but you shouldn't-” Barbara realises too late what she's done, “because then you can't re-make scenes-”

It shouldn't take a fraction of a second for Beth to find a bottle of glitter glue, all gummed up at the top, squeeze it far too hard, and end up with glitter glue all over her hair, but it does. 

Rhys bursts out laughing. 

“Oops.” Beth giggles. 

Barbara is watching the scene unfold with so much horror she barely notices her phone buzz. Patsy. [Everything all right?]

[Fine!!!] Barbara texts back, then considers the number of exclamation marks probably isn't reassuring, so she sends a follow-up [fine.]

“Aaah, I think I just made it worse.” Barbara murmurs to her phone. She looks up from her messages to see Rhys approaching Beth's hair with a pair of scissors. 

“No, Rhys!”

“I was helping-”

“No scissors!”

“Fiiine” he says, handing them over. 

Beth's laughs fade as she pulls at her hair, the glue gumming together big chunks, sticky strands stretching between her hair and hands like mozzarella. “I don't like it,” she sobs. 

“Right!” Barbara says, taking control, “it's bath time!”

* * *

In the time it takes Barbara to run a bath, Patsy sends a string of texts that politely question whether everything is as fine as Barbara's messages claim, followed by a text from Delia explaining that she has confiscated Patsy's phone, and that if Barbara needs anything, she's to call Delia. 

She sends Delia a picture of Beth's painting by way of reassurance, then wrestles the children into the bath. Rhys demands bubbles, and plays with his Thunderbird toys (children still like Thunderbirds; this pleases Barbara), as Barbara gently teases the glue out of Beth's hair. 

“It huuuuurts.”

“I'm sorry Beth; try not to pull.”

Barbara's phone goes a few more times, but Barbara knows enough to a) not bring her phone anywhere near the bath, and b) not to leave the children unattended for a second, so it's not until the children are dried, pyjamad (Beth and Rhys both favour striped button-downs; they are truly their mother's children) and brushing their teeth that she sees the texts from Tom, asking how babysitting is going. 

[GLITTER GLUE] she responds, feeling that pretty much covers it. She brushes Beth's damp hair – the glue has all come out, the glitter not so much. Beth doesn't seem to mind, though, and she and Rhys argue over bedtime stories. They all settle into Patsy and Delia's bed and Barbara reads them The Gruffalo (“do the voices! Mam always does the voices!”) and two chapters of George's Marvellous Medicine. 

By the time George's grandmother has grown so big she's broken through the roof of the family house, Beth has fallen asleep, curled up to Barbara. Rhys is extra-quiet and tiptoes back to his room as Barbara gently tucks Beth into bed.

“I'm sorry about your finger,” Rhys whispers as Barbara comes into his room and turns on his nightlight.

“It's okay Rhys,” she says, holding out her hand, “see? It's fine now.”

Rhys gently strokes the plaster. “Thank you for the sweets. Today was really good fun.”

“Really?” given the portion of the evening where Rhys had literally passed out in horror, Barbara was not going to count this visit as a success.

Rhys nods.

“I've never actually babysat anyone before,” Barbara confides, “not without Trixie or someone else.”

“Really? Were you scared?”

“A bit – I mean, I love you and Beth, but-” 

Rhys nods thoughtfully and his resemblance to Patsy is startling. He slides out of bed and rummages around the in the draw of his desk. 

“What are you-?”

Rhys shows Barbara a set of stickers that Barbara recognises from the rewards chart downstairs. 

“You should have this one,” he says, peeling off and sticking to Barbara's cardigan a colourful star-shaped sticker. He considers for a moment then sticks a second, rosette-shaped one next to it. 

She looks down to read them. 

“'I was brave'; 'Good job'. Thank you, Rhys.”

“You're welcome.” Rhys climbs back into bed and snuggles down. Barbara kisses his forehead and heads downstairs.

* * *

At some point Barbara falls asleep on the sofa, because one moment she's reading her kindle and the next she's jolted awake by the sound of the front door opening. 

Delia pokes her head into the living room, “Barbara?”

She sits up straight. “Hello! Did you have a good time?”

“Such a good time,” Delia says, coming into the room hand-in-hand with Patsy, “we can't thank you enough.”

“Were things all right here?” Patsy asks.

“Yes, we had a good time too,”

“It looks like Rhys approved,” Patsy says, gesturing to Barbara's stickers. 

Barbara blushes. “Ah, I forgot about those-”

“No, Rhys must have really approved,” Delia says, “he doesn't give those out to just anyone.”

“Really?”

Patsy and Delia both nod and Barbara feels ridiculously proud. 

“It's definitely past our bedtime,” Patsy says, eyeing the clock, “you should get some sleep too. Beth will be waking you up at 7 o'clock tomorrow, I'm afraid.”

“Sorry about that,” Delia adds, “she gets excited about guests. Especially you and Trixie.”

“I'll take it as a compliment,” Barbara says, “sleep well, both of you.”

Patsy and Delia's hands stay joined and Barbara watches them fondly as they head upstairs together, before following and heading to bed herself.


End file.
